Let's Play A Game
by DatAssRomano
Summary: FraSpaMano & PrUk. They were drunk. They were stupid enough to play Truth or Dare. And England's naked. Let's see how this pans out...((Bad Touch Trio plus Romano and England))
1. Chapter 1

**DARoma: I'm thinking of making this a mini-series, and making separate stories with other games like 'Never Have I Ever' and other...ideas with a different grouping, like the Soviet Union or the Kirklands. Send me requests; we're here to serve you lovely ladies...and men. *winky***

_Romano: Blah blah...the perverted bitch doesn't own us, thank god. Why the hell do you do this to me? _

_Spain: But Looooviiiii~ You liked it..._

_Romano: Sh-shut up! Bastard._

_France: Ohnhonhon~ I know I liked it~_

**DARoma: And while the sexual tension continues, feel free to read this~**

_((Contains PrUk, FraSpaMano, sexy male time, mentioned FraPru, FraSpa, FraMano, and EngMano, threesomes, Romano's mouth, Spain's video collection, France, truth or dare, and relationships (because they're dangerous)_

### ####

Romano felt his face go redder as France caught his eye over the coffee table and smirked seductively. For some reason Spain was having a party, and he'd invited four other people, including his Italian protégée, the potato bastard's brother, the British asshole, and France. At the moment they were sprawled all over the living room, drunk out of their minds, the TV blasting nonsense in the background. Romano himself had been dragged onto Spain's lap, and the clingy bastard wasn't letting go anytime soon. England was facedown on the floor, Prussia was sprawled out on the couch, and stupid France was sitting across from them. Truth be told, he had no idea why England was here; he was under the impression Spain hated him. He'd walked in on him talking with Frenchy earlier about the second macho potato and the tea lover, but they didn't explain.

"I'm bored," Prussia whined.

"Let's play a game, then," Spain said over Romano's shoulder.

"Like what?" England muttered into the carpet.

"Oui! Let's play truth or dare!" France suggested.

Romano felt the blood drain from his face, and England would've done the same if he'd been sober enough. The Bad Touch Trio was notorious in their friends' circle for their games. More than once had they rigged a game, from spin the bottle (how the hell do you even cheat at that) to Never Have I Ever so they got to see action between England and Romano. In fact, they were a little obsessed with it. The worst part of it was Romano was the only one that remembered it in the morning. England always managed to get completely and totally wiped out if there was alcohol.

"Si! Let's play!" Spain agreed.

"Who's going first?" Prussia asked.

"Hm...France? Since you suggested it?"

"Oui. Romano...truth or dare?"

Romano huffed. "Truth."

"If you could be in a threesome with any of the people in the room, who would it be?"

He felt his face flush and scanned the people in the room again. Not England. But that left three of the most perverted bastards on the planet. Prussia seemed like the safest choice...but...

He avoided France's gaze as he spoke, his face flaming. "You. And Spain."

The latter hugged him tighter. "It's your turn, Lovi~" he chirped. Somehow, in being honest, he'd clearly pleased the Spaniard.

"Stupid asshole," Romano muttered. "Prussia, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"...Put one of those pictures you have of Austria on Facebook."

France whistled.

"Challenge accepted. One, two, three, tada!"

Austria was going to kill him.

Prussia's dark red gaze flickered over England's body, and everyone noticed the German was looking at his ass. "England! Truth or dare?"

"Dare," came the reply.

"Hm... Strip. Make it sexy. And stay like that for the rest of the night."

Acid green eyes glared at him as England pulled himself off the floor and slowly flicked open the buttons on his shirt, revealing a white, almost glowing chest. He threw the shirt aside, where France caught it with a whistle. Next came the tight black pants he was wearing, which he wriggled out of before he dropped beside him. Everyone's eyes were on his underwear now, even Romano's. As he stuck a couple of fingers in the wristband to yank them down, they were all silent, even though they'd gotten this far before.

"I hate you all. Perverts," England grumbled as he sat down again.

The kiss between Prussia and Romano was insistent but still precise, the bigger German pressing the Italian into the couch gently. When he pressed his tongue to Romano's lips he was granted access after a slight pause. Spain and France watched, almost in awe, and England averted his gaze, as the pair's tongues slid together, their warm bodies pressed up against each other. Over the course of the game Prussia had lost his shirt, and Romano's delicate fingers traced along his chest. Then Romano's barriers snapped back and he pushed Prussia away, his face flushing yet again. Prussia seemed to shrug, and looked over at France.

"Good enough?"

The blonde chuckled. "Oui."

"Truth or Dare?"

"Hm...Truth."

"How many people in this room have you slept with?"

Romano and England went white, and Spain shrugged to himself. Dark blue eyes travelled over them all with amusement before France returned his attention to Prussia.

"Three, if I don't count myself."

"You didn't need to add that last comment, bastard!"

"So...who hasn't he slept with?"

Everyone glanced at each other, except for France, whose smirk was getting wider by the second, and England, because everyone assumed he wasn't the exception to the rule.

France glanced at Spain. "Truth or Dare, Mon cher?"

"I'll do a dare this time, Francis."

"Do something to mon petit Romano."

"What?"

"Anything you like. Let your mind run wild."

"Hey, wait, I didn't agree with-"

Romano's protests broke off abruptly as Spain's warm breath tickled his neck. A soft kiss was pressed to the side of his neck and the Italian let out a shaky breath, freezing. He glanced at France, who was smiling as Spain unbuttoned a few buttons on the younger man's shirt to push it off one shoulder. Romano continued to glare daggers at France as Spain nuzzled the skin where his neck and shoulder met. Then he bit down, and Romano's eyes fluttered shut as he let out a small whimper.

### ####

"Don't button up your shirt," France said absently as he noticed Romano becoming alert again. The Italian let out an inaudible mutter, his hands dropping to his lap instead of trying to hide the bruised skin mottled along his neck and shoulder. Spain's arms were still tightly around his waist, but Romano couldn't see the other's expression. He wasn't sure he wanted to after that.

"Romano, truth or dare?"

The Italian averted his eyes from France's hungry gaze to focus on England, his cheeks flaming.

"Truth."

"Details on your first time."

It was a weak truth, but no one could deny they were interested. Except maybe England, the very person who'd asked. Romano went even more red. "I-is there any way I can get out of this?" he asked, a note of desperation in his voice. Spain's hands tightened on his waist and Prussia shook his head, a grin on his face. "Nope!"

"...Fuck.

I...I was in France for the world meeting- and he got me drunk, and, he dragged me into a FUCKING closet and, and-"

Multiple glares were sent France's way. The Frenchman shrugged nonchalantly. "He is so beautiful! Would you be able to say no to that?" He gestured with one hand towards Romano, who face was bright red, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

He looked so unexpectedly cute and helpless all the men gathered- except England for no reason other than he wasn't wearing any- suddenly found their pants were mysteriously tighter than before.

That was when they realised.

"Wait. If Romano's slept with France, who hasn't?"

"I thought it was you, Gil."

"Nope. He got me years ago."

"...Tomato bastard?"

Spain smiled sympathetically. "Sorry Roma, I slept with him around the same time Prussia did."

Everyone stared at England.

"Are you serious?"

"W-what are you wankers all staring at?!"

"That...is shocking. "

"Really, tea bastard?"

"And even after all that sexual tension!" Prussia cackled.

"Can we just get on with the game?" England muttered.

"Gilbert. Truth or Dare?"

"You should know by now I will always pick dare!"

"Phone little Ita-chan and pretend to be Germany."

Romano seemed to be of two minds on this dare Spain had decided upon. It was his own brother they were tricking after all. But...it was potentially a very good idea. An entertaining idea. Prussia frowned. "Ita-chan's got my number in his phone, though."

"Use the tea bastard's," Romano supplied.

England looked unsettled as Prussia picked up the Brit's dress slacks and stuck a hand in the pocket, pulling out a sleek silver phone. It was passed to Prussia, who quickly dialled a number and set it to speakerphone.

"Ciao...vee, Feliciano speaking~"

"Ja. This is...Ludwig."

Amazingly, Prussia did sound like his brother when he made the effort. England's large eyebrows raised as he watched. The tiniest smirk appeared on Romano's face. Spain seemed to be sulking about something in the background.

"Ciao Luddy! I'm sorry, I'm a bit bu- Ahh~"

The sound of girls giggling sent the members of the Bad Touch Trio staring at each other and Romano smirking happily as some sultry girls voices took over the line.

"Aw, Feli, sweetie, who are you talking to?"

"Your little friend?"

"Aw, Feli has a little friend~ Maybe he should come to play too~"

"C'mon, Feli, beg and I'll let you cum~"

There was a flurry of noise on the other side of the phone, the speaker on the younger Italian's device picking up moans and gasps for breath, heated words...

"Nein."

Prussia abruptly hung up after his denial, and Romano snickered. "Maria is good at what she does~ Her company is very popular. She's not really my type, but..." he said in a sultry tone. England face palmed. "I knew any relation of the frog's would have this side to them," he said dismally. France raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Hey, Arthur. Truth or Dare?"

England scowled. He thought they'd forgotten about him. He was still naked, but that didn't really matter at this point. What was unnerving was that he had Prussia sitting on the floor near his feet and Francis on the other side of the couch next to him. They were too goddamn _close_.

"Dare."

Spain smiled, but although it was his normal smile, there was something horribly predatory about it that Romano had seen only a few times in his life, and never outside of sex. A chill ran down his spine at the look, but he also felt a pang of jealousy that it wasn't directed at him. Nonetheless, it was probably for the best.

"Go in the bathroom."

"What are you up to, you wanker?"

England stood up, his drunk haze causing him to stumble. Spain shifted Romano off of him and stood as well. The shaggy-haired brunette beckoned Prussia over, and the German followed them to the bathroom. Spain hummed a tune as he stuck his head in the bathroom, looking around. "Si, okay!" he chirped. England, while glaring at Spain, stepped into the middle of the room and folded his arms, although the effect was ruined by the blonde swaying to the side and nearly falling over. This was when France shoved Prussia into the room as well. Prussia sat up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head, to find he was locked in a room with a naked, drunken Brit.

"Did you just fucking lock them in the bathroom?"

"Si!"

"Why?"

"They needed to get together. Also, I have lots of cameras in there."

"Where's the monitor?" France queried. Spain pointed upstairs, to his room. That was when it hit Romano that he usually used that bathroom. And he was always surprised when Spain never followed him in there...

Wait.

"You fucking pervert!"

That was when he realised France and Spain had already left for the bedroom.

He found them perched on the edge of Spain's bed, staring at a giant screen. Romano flopped face first onto the sheets, closing his eyes tiredly. There was a small murmur of voices coming from the TV's large speakers, but that was it. "They're not fucking, why are you bastards so interested?" he muttered. Neither of them bothered to reply to his grumbling, choosing instead to stare at the TV as if it where a god.

"Hello? Bastards?"

France finally turned to smile at him. "Love is a magical thing, mon cher. It is good to see it."

"Si! And Gil is our amigo!" Spain chirped.

"What does love have to do with anything?"

Nonetheless, Romano pulled himself up from the bed to look over France's shoulder at the screen. Apparently he'd already missed the conversation because now Prussia had England up against the wall, and they were making out heavily. It was the kind of sloppy effort made by drunks who don't even care what other people think of them. Romano grimaced. "This is gross." Unfortunately for him, the speaker was only one-way and the blondes on the screen payed him no heed as Prussia reached to palm at England's erection. The Italian watching didn't catch the reaction, but soon enough he figured it was pretty welcome and was NOT, in fact, rape.

He also found the video was turning him on...a lot.

The brunette tore his eyes from the screen and his gaze skittered around the room, searching for an escape. The bathroom was out...

"I-I-I'm going to get a drink!"

The pair didn't reply to his flustered exit.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and looked down at his pants with a little disappointment. It wasn't like he was a blushing virgin (never mind the tomato cracks). Maybe he was just drunk? Although...he hadn't really had sex in a while. "Stop it!" he muttered with a groan, slamming his head on the counter. The last time he'd...

...Last world meeting?

No, he hadn't gone to the last one.

He'd stayed at home.

Romano pulled a face as he heard a muffled moan and a thump. Well, he knew fucking someone against a door wasn't going to be quiet, still...

...But if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that it was him being fucked. Dazed by alcohol and lust, he didn't quite realise what he was doing until his hand wrapped around his erection and tugged lightly. A moan escaped him as compromising images flooded his mind. Spain's smirking face when they were alone together, France making him cry out for more, Spain's hands on him, France's clever mouth...

"Unh...per favor," he panted, not even aware of his surroundings anymore in his lust-filled fantasy of the two older men pleasuring him. The thoughts of the two touching him turned him on beyond belief. It was hard to believe he was attracted to both, but right now he really didn't give a shit. He moaned, not bothering to keep his voice down as he quickened his hand movements. "Ah, ah...more," he heard. That was his voice. The fuck? He sounded so...

"...Hot,"

He would've used the word 'needy', but...whatever. What did Spain know? The tomato bastard was biased anyw-

Hang on.

He felt a body that was not his own sidle up to him. Warm breath caressed his ear. "Little Roma is having fun without us, Toni." He couldn't even open his eyes to look at them, because right now he just wanted to get off and it really wasn't happening when they pulled his hands behind his back. "Si, he is. Maybe we should...help him out?" He heard France laugh, and it sent a pleasured shiver down his spine. "Oui, let's."

He was carefully moved away from the counter and lifted into someone's arms.

"His pants are getting in the way. Do I just get rid of them?"

"Of course, cher. We cannot have our way with him, with them ON, after all."

Romano felt fingers sliding down his legs to reach his pants and boxers. The fingers just weren't close enough to where he wanted them! He heard himself make a frustrated whine and a kiss was placed on his overly warm cheek. "It's okay, Lovi~" came the chirpy voice. How could anyone be this damn happy when he was so fucking horny and they wouldn't let him do anything about it! He heard the clink of his belt as it hit the floor.

"Bedroom?"

"Can Roma wait that long?"

"...maybe not."

"Hm...table?"

"Si, that'll do."

The Italian was placed on a hard, cold surface on his back and let out another whine as warm hands slid down to his shirt and pulled it over his head. "Si, si," came a distracted voice. Suddenly a hand slid up his thigh, running a finger along the underside of his member. Romano twitched as the finger teasingly rubbed against the tip, forcing another needy whine from his throat.

"What do you want, Roma?"

"Nn...More..."

"Manners."

"Fucking he-ah!"

The finger once again began its movements, but this time the rest of the hand joined it. He was swept up by the wave of hot, intense pleasure given by the treatment and because of his earlier antics, it wasn't long before he released.

There was a moment of stillness, the only noise Romano's gasping breaths.

The first thing he saw when he finally dared to look were green eyes, dark with some indescribable emotion and yes, a little bit of desire. His gaze flickered away from that sight only to see France licking cum off of his fingers. Sultry blue eyes met his and the Frenchman smirked, much like he had earlier. The Italian felt a shiver run down his spine. "Roma, that was...very hot," he said, standing up to shift closer. Spain didn't say anything, but he really didn't need to. Gone was the easy going smile, replaced with a dark look he'd only seen a few times before. Usually before he was fucked against a wall. The brunette looked at France for a few seconds and then leant down to capture Romano's lips in a rough, bruising kiss. The Italian basically trapped under him kissed back, enjoying the lack of restraint from the other. It was almost as if Spain had been overtaken by...

Lust.

France sat beside them, unbuttoning his own shirt and enjoying the show with a trademark smirk. He hung the shirt on the back of a chair, not wanting to get wrinkles in it. Romano watched him with his mouth hanging open slightly. This was fucking happening. This was actually fucking happening.

As France returned to the table minus his clothes Spain leant across Romano and captured the blonde's lips in a kiss. It started off as a simple brushing of lips, but soon escalated into something much, much better. France moaned into the kiss and pressed closer, Spain trailing a few fingers down his chest. The Italian basically stuck underneath them watched as France somehow managed to get rid of Spain's clothes in a few split seconds. He felt his cheeks burst into flame again at the lusty expressions on the other two's faces as they all looked at each other.

"Are you…okay with this, Lovi?" Spain queried.

"We won't force you," France added.

Romano glared. "If you don't both fuck me right now, I will kill the shit out of both of you bastards."

They smirked. And that was the last thing Romano remembered for a while.

### ####

"Ngh, ah! More, more! España!"

Spain scissored his fingers, a look of faint concentration on his face overpowering the lust for a split second. France was toying with the fiery Italian's wayward curl, sending sparks of pleasure down his body so he didn't feel the pain of the intrusion. Romano just really didn't care about anything. Except maybe being fucked. He reached for France weakly and pulled him in for a kiss, the blonde immediately swiping his tongue into his mouth.

### ####

"Lovi, are you okay?"

"Move faster, dammit!"

Romano threw the comment over his shoulder as he turned back to what he was doing and flicked his tongue over the tip of France's member. The blonde held back the noises he was making so he could hear more of Romano's…and Spain's. The taller brunette thrusted roughly into the Italian, and Romano let out a strangled moan, the vibrations setting alight the fires of pleasure in his body.

"I don't know how much longer I can- ahhh!"

### ####

Romano opened his eyes sleepily to a warm body on each side of him. Spain's arms were around his waist, and France's soft blonde hair was tickling his chin. They were still naked, unfortunately, and Romano could feel a stickiness on himself that he really didn't want to think about. Spain seemed to be awake, because the moment the Italian moved- trying not to think about how he was going to walk without a limp- the Spaniard pressed soft lips to his temple and smiled. "Good morning, Lovi~" France lifted himself up from the floor and blinked at them a few times, seemingly trying to wake up.

Then it hit the small Italian just how goddamn embarrassing that was.

"Lovi...that was..." Spain started.

Romano flushed and sat up. "I'm leaving," were the first words out of his mouth as he looked around for his shirt. He noticed it hanging on a nearby chair and reached for it, sliding his legs off of the large table and yanking it on. He needed to call a taxi. But his phone was in Spain's bedroom still. He'd left it there after... Deciding to get his pants on the way down, he climbed the stairs quickly and saw it on the centre of the bed. In his fit of embarrassment and humiliation, he snatched the phone and unlocked it swiftly, dialling Feli's number. As it rung he sat down on the bed and looked over at the TV screen that was still lit. Prussia and England were sleeping on the floor, with the small Brit lying on the German's chest. It was... surprisingly peaceful. Romano found himself smiling a little at the scene, not that he'd ever admit it willingly.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And rang.

He heard his brother's voice on the other end, but he'd already dropped the phone onto the bed. "Lovi, where are you going?" Spain's voice was close to his ear, and warm arms found themselves wrapping around his waist to pull him close to a muscled torso. A kiss was pressed to his cheek on the other side; the forgotten phone picked up, turned off, and flung back to its home on the sheets. "Mon cher, is something wrong?" Romano didn't look at either of them, firm denial still in his head. "Did we do anything you didn't want to?" came the question. He looked up at the hand and then his gaze flickered to Spain and away again.

"Lovi?"

He stared at the blankets. "N-no, you didn't."

He felt France smiling as Spain spoke again. "Good."

"It _was_ good, wasn't it?"

"Shut up, bastard. Can't you go one day without saying something sexual?!"

"You're so much nicer when your mouth is doing other things, mon petit Romano~"

"You look just like a little tomato, Lovi! So cute!"

"I'll kill you both!"

"But we fucked you, non? So you wouldn't kill us!"

### ####

_Note ; _

_-If anyone wants the PrUk version of this (I don't think it'd be THAT interesting, but still) just ask away! You should get it within a week or so!_

_-I love requests and will write any pairing whether I support it or not! ^^_

_-This is the first thing I've written/published in a while so if you see any mistakes or have opinions, you're welcome to put them in your review. Just…do it nicely. THERE IS NO NEED TO BE LE ASSHOLE ON HERE. _

**~DARoma **


	2. Chapter 2

# Truth or Sex- PrUk Side story #

DARoma: And here is the requested PrUk side story to go with the original! It's a bit different from the other, seen as its more Romance/Humour where the other was Smut/Embarassing Hilarities. Nonetheless, it does have smut, which I know is why you're here. Enjoy!

I told myself I wouldn't update anything until I'd finished, but look how well that turned out. Also, I apologize for quality, my phone that I write it on barely works and it's a pain to transfer. MY GOD is this late. I'm so sorry.

Rain is a great smell, I tell you.

### ####

Prussia being attracted to England was the understatement of the century.

But who could blame him? Man was fucking /hot./

Eyebrow fetish? Maybe a little.

"Toniiiii, you have to invite him! Please? I just want to fuck him, that's all, I swear! It'll be awesome! Just bang bang with my five meters and I'll leave!" Spain cast an amused glance at France, who was leaning against his kitchen counter and listening to the conversation. The blonde rolled his eyes. "Tell Gilbert he needs to learn the meaning of love, mon amour," he said. Prussia's snort was audible from the speaker of the phone.

"Love? What's that? Kesesese!"

"...alright, Gil, if you want to sleep with him that badly."

"Yay! Oh- West is upset because his boy toy's disappeared, I have to go!"

The phone clicked off and France sighed. "He's so oblivious it's pathetic. Even more than you, Toni." Spain looked back at him from his phone with a puzzled look. "I'm sorry, Francis, I wasn't listening! I got up to ten in Flappy Bird!" Another sigh escaped the blonde. "Maybe not that oblivious. I don't think anyone else would have survived this long." Spain cast him a questioning glance before returning to tapping his screen, the beeps filling the amused silence.

### ####

"So...how do we do this?"

"I don't know~ Francey, you work it out."

"Oui, but...I cannot think of anything," France replied.

"Then what do we do? Lo siento, this isn't easy."

"I agree, but..."

Just then they both went silent as Romano stalked in the kitchen, opening the fridge without acknowledging them. Once he had successfully retrieved a ripe, red tomato, he turned back, green-gold eyes suspicious. "I don't want to fucking know what you two idiota are talking about, because it can't possibly be good, and I don't want to be involved," he said finally, sounding disgruntled. Spain beamed at him. "But Lovi, why would we be doing anything wrong? We're just talking about setting up Gil and Arth-" France's hand slapped over the other's mouth, and he sent an obviously guilty smile the Italian's way. Romano raised an eyebrow and bit into the red fruit, chewing slowly before going to walk away, throwing a parting sentence over his shoulder as he padded away, ignoring them both again.

"Just shove them in a room together and see if they fuck. Why put effort into it?"

Silence reigned for a short moment as the words the Italian had uttered reached their minds. Bright green eyes met blue. "You know..." France said thoughtfully, "...that isn't such a bad idea." His hand dropped from Spain's mouth and the brunette blinked, looking confused. "Huh?"

"I have a plan, mon amour. Let us see where it will take us, oui?"

### ####

And so the plan began. Or, more correctly, the half-baked idea began.

When Prussia arrived at Spain's house, the door was opened by a grumpy-looking British man who refused to look him in the eyes. "England! What a sexy sight for so late at night," he said with a snicker. England raised an eyebrow at him, looking bored. "Did you make that rhyme on purpose or were you just being bloody stupid?" Prussia paused to think about this for a few seconds.

"Nope! I'm just that awesome!"

England rolled his eyes and walked back in the house, leaving Prussia looking at his ass. That was a damn fine booty, the albino thought to himself with a smirk brushing his features. Then he followed the other, wondering whether the Brit would be easier to jump when drunk or not.

### ####

Francis smirked at Romano across the coffee table, causing the other to flush and inch away, which was hard when he was sitting in Spain's lap. The Spaniard chirped something at him, cuddling him closer, and France wished he was in on that. But he had a plan to carry out. This was it.

"I'm bored," Prussia whined.

"Let's play a game, then," Spain said over Romano's shoulder.

"Like what?" England muttered into the carpet.

"Oui! Let's play truth or dare!" France suggested.

The game had begun.

France watched as the different dares were played out, hoping to god almighty Spain would pull through with this, because if he didn't they had missed a delicious night of Romano and Angleterre making out and doing dirty things to each other. And that would be a terrible shame for everyone, because they were only risking this for dear Gilbert.

### ####

((It'd be a bit...weird to repeat the whole dare thing, so...to cut things short or not. I think I'll skip the dares and keep the whole prologue/epilogue thing going))

### ####

"...Hm. Strip. And make it sexy."

As England complied to the dare, Prussia's eyes bugged out, and France wondered mildly whether one's eyes could fall out from the sheer attractiveness of the grumpy nation. If he didn't have those terrible caterpillars...he would be very attractive indeed. Prussia seemed to agree, judging from the barely-controlled expression of lust on his face. It was almost a shame England and Romano were the only ones drunk; the trio were beyond being able to hold their alcohol, people just assumed they were drunk because of their actions. France fiddled with the wine glass in his hand, his gaze flickering to England's pale skin and back to Romano's flushed face as he blinked rapidly, trying to focus.

Sometimes he got the feeling Romano was a lightweight because he /wanted/ to be, not because that's how he was. The small, fiery Italian was quite the little mystery sometimes, it seemed, but it only made him more attractive. And Spain...Spain was pretty nice too. He wasn't the nation of passion for nothing, even if he was a little stupid at times. What were they supposed to do if Prussia and England did get it on?

### ####

"Are you serious?"

"W-what are you wankers all staring at?!"

"That...is shocking. "

"Really, tea bastard?"

"And even after all that sexual tension!" Prussia cackled. Inwardly, for some reason the German felt strangely...relieved by this turn of events. He'd always assumed something had happened between France and England, and even if he knew there was nothing now, he still had thought...

"Can we just get on with the game?" England muttered.

### ####

"Hey, Arthur. Truth or Dare?"

Prussia could barely contain himself. He shifted a little closer to the naked blonde, near his feet. If he sat on the couch beside him like France was, he'd lose his mind. Although he wasn't really drunk, he just wanted to grab England and fuck him into something so hard the Brit would be screaming his name...

"Dare."

Spain smiled and Prussia felt a chill go down his spine. That was unnatural. Spain hadn't made that face in front of him for a hundred years or so, and it was usually very, very dangerous. That was a Spanish rape face, and even Russia couldn't top it. He glanced at England, who looked unfazed, the alcohol making him hiccup. It was strangely cute.

"Go in the bathroom."

"What are you up to, you wanker?"

England stood up, his drunk haze causing him to stumble. Spain shifted Romano off of him and stood as well. The shaggy-haired brunette beckoned Prussia over, and the German followed them to the bathroom. Spain hummed a tune as he stuck his head in the bathroom, looking around. "Si, okay!" he chirped. England, while glaring at Spain, stepped into the middle of the room and folded his arms, although the effect was ruined by the blonde swaying to the side and nearly falling over. This was when France shoved Prussia into the room as well. Prussia sat up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head, to find he was locked in a room with a naked, drunken Brit.

"Well...this is an interesting turn of events," he snickered. England scowled at him. "Don't get too excited, wanker." Prussia didn't comment on the use of the word, feeling a smirk build itself up. Now was his chance. He could just...

But he didn't want to rape the Brit.

"Hey, Artie...do you like me?"

"Wh-what?!"

"It was an easy enough question."

The Brit's face was bright red, and although it wasn't quite at Romano's level, it was rather…disabling. Prussia was slightly embarrassed at the amount this face was turning him on. It was pretty amazing, for someone as awesome as him to be brought down by a blush and a drunk blonde. No, he didn't have a blonde fetish, that was just a description. I mean, look at Austria. He certainly wasn't blonde. Although Austria had certainly been a bad life choice. England seemed like a bad life choice too, though.

"M-maybe…I don't know…" England mumbled.

Prussia looked up, still being on the ground. The tiles were cold, but all that was driven away by the shock of what the Brit had just said. Had he just admitted that he…

Nah.

"What kind of an answer was that?"

"I don't- you just sprung it on me all of a sudden! How would I answer that?!"

"Quite easily. Was that a yes or a no?"

"It was a maybe! I already said that, didn't I?"

"That isn't an answer though!"

"It's a perfectly good answer!"

"It's terrible that you think that. Scheisse!"

"Well, what do you think is a good answer, then?"

"This."

Prussia smirked against England's lips, feeling the other freeze. He pressed a bit harder, swiping his tongue against the soft flesh. Then he drew back and his smirk got wider as he saw the Brit's hand go to his lips, touching lightly as he stared at Prussia, his drunk mind taking some time to process this new information. "You just…" he trailed off. "Kissed you. Ja, I know, I'm the one that did it."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because…I'm me, and you're…"

"Hot. I know."

"Wanker."

"Only on Tuesd-"

England had grabbed his shirt unceremoniously to yank him into another kiss, and Prussia broke off what he'd been saying, having no idea what he was going to prattle on about anyway. The German's self-control snapped then, like a frayed rope, and he shoved the other up against the cold, tiled wall of the bathroom. England gasped into the kiss, and it only turned him on more, the lack of clothing on the other providing perfect access to everything. Everything. He was caught up in the heat of the other, the fight of their tongues. When they eventually had to break off for air, Prussia pressed their foreheads together, leaning on the blonde a little as they caught their breath enough to speak properly. The albino decided to speak first, his voice smug. Knowing he was going to say something he wouldn't approve of, England glared, the bright green contrasting sharply with the white of his skin.

"That didn't feel like a maybe."

"No one asked for your opinion."

"So?"

"So…shut up."

"Why?"

"Because you should be doing other th- agh!"

"Like this?"

Prussia snickered as he squeezed England's ass lightly again, running one finger along the soft skin. Bright acid-green eyes widened in near-shock as the Brit was touched, his lips parting slightly to take in short breaths. "Wh-what are y-you doing?" England spat out, the bite taken out of his words by how clearly excited the blonde was, and the fact he was still panting lightly. Prussia smirked as he ran his tongue up the Brit's neck and got a shiver. He could tell with the amount the other had drunk, and the knowledge he was indeed a lightweight, that he could be assured England would be more honest and less 'tsundere.' Which means he was likely to get laid tonight, as long as the Brit didn't notice the tiny camera hidden in the shower. The only reason Prussia knew about it was that he was the only one that used this bathroom besides Romano, and he'd broken it the first time he'd noticed. The only reason he left it there is because Spain begged him to leave it, and insisted it was only so he could perv on Romano.

England glared at him.

"What?"

"Don't tease me, you bloody-"

"-Let me guess, wanker?"

"Yes!"

"Well…seen as you asked so awesomely…wait, you didn't."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Gilbert!"

The last sentence came out as an exasperated sigh as Prussia removed himself from the compromising situation he had been in and went to sit on the side of the jacuzzi. He folded his arms and began to pout, hoping his teasing would provoke something, anything, out of the grumpy blonde. England groaned, rolling his eyes. "You're so childish it's pathetic."

"At least I'm not an old man."

"You ARE old!"

"Nah. I stayed young because of my charm. You, on the other hand…"

"Shut up."

England stood up straight, trying to stalk over to Prussia but finding some difficulty in this action. He blinked rapidly at the smirking albino, reaching for him but missing. Prussia snorted and he attempted it again. "Here. Let me," the German said finally, grabbing one wrist and yanking the Brit forward. England shifted in his grip, his face going red as he realised he was practically straddling the albino in his quest for a comfier seat. Prussia sighed and captured his lips again, finding it ridiculously easy to distract him in this state. The Brit was expecting it this time and leaned into the kiss, leaving Prussia to balance them both precariously on the edge of the jacuzzi. Their tongues brushed each other softly, the kiss strangely gentle as England played idly with his messy white hair. They broke it off, and Prussia blinked slowly, not being able to think of anything to say. England looked to the side, a small blush still on his face. Prussia decided wordlessly that he was having the Brit, like now, and no one could stop him.

But apparently something could.

"Arthur…" he said finally. The blonde blinked at him, unsure of what was going on.

"We…don't have any lube."

England froze for a second and then sighed. "We d-don't need it."

Prussia raised an eyebrow. "Is that a good idea?"

"I've had worse, believe me."

Masochism? Prussia mulled this over. He didn't really want to hurt England, but it almost seemed like the Brit wanted the pain. Was it okay if it was consensual? Did he…?

Meh.

"If you're okay with it, I am."

### ####

Prussia stopped the movements of the single finger the moment England let out that tiny hiss of pain. Then he looked down from tasting the pale skin that smelled like rain and realised he'd guessed right- the Brit was certainly enjoying this. Interesting. England let out a small moan and shifted in his lap, accidentally brushing up against the albino's own erection and halting all activity his fingers had been doing as he bit down on England's collarbone harshly, drawing another moan out of the blonde's throat.

Then he added another finger.

### ####

"Ungh…take off your bloody pants…"

"But then I'd have to move."

"We have…to move anyway…"

"…you have a point. Unawesome!"

Prussia stood up, England still holding onto him, as he reached one hand to unzip his jeans. It was proving to be rather difficult, with the current 'state' he was in, but he finally kicked them off and laid England down gently onto the floor. Dazed green eyes flickered over his body and the Brit sighed faintly. "Come on."

"As you wish."

### ####

"I w-agh-was serious ab-bout you g-getting it on-ngh-with!"

"Jesus, Artie, I'm trying!"

England's bruised lips were parted as he took in shuddering breaths, as Prussia thrust harder into the tight heat of the Brit's body. The moaned cusses and attempts to say Prussia's human name were quite attractive, even though he was pretty sure there was no success. England's nails scraped across the skin of his back, and he wondered mildly whether it'd be visible in the morning.

"G-gilbert… I c-can't-"

"M-me either- Fffuck, Arthur!"

### ####

When Prussia was brought back to consciousness the next morning the first thing he noticed was the body resting on his own. Memories of last night filtered back into his brain without much trouble, a small smirk gliding onto his face. Hm…he wondered if the door was open. Shifting England off of him gently, he stood up, stretching in all his nude glory. People would be lucky to see his awesome five meters anyway. Once he felt all limbered up, he opened the door, realising with a snicker the key was right there anyway. His bitches were sneaky.

"Food," he whined to himself as he drifted into the living room, nearly kicking France in the head. He looked down at the sleeping trio, trying desperately not to laugh and wake them up. What a cute little scene~! Except for the mess, maybe. But he and England had left something similar in the bathroom, so he couldn't really fault them for that. Being wasted did that to you sometimes.

He found a plate of churros in the fridge and picked them up, biting into one as he drifted back through the crime scene. Spain blinked open one green eye sleepily, smiling vaguely at him as he passed. Prussia knelt down to hold up his hand for a high five, and Spain didn't leave him hanging. He winked at the Spaniard as he waved a goodbye and went to the bedroom on the way back to the bathroom.

### ####

"Hmhm…what a shame," Prussia mumbled as he noticed the monitor had frozen at 3 in the morning. He quickly copied what data was on there and wiped it, leaving it frozen on the picture of himself and England sleeping. This could work in his favour quite well. If the others thought he was still there…he could skip out on cleaning up. His snickers filled the room as he pulled out the disk and darted into the bathroom.

"Ugh…my head," England complained as he walked in.

"No round two then?" Prussia joked.

England glared.

"Okay, okay," he held the churros up defensively. "What about a peace offering?"

The Brit sighed, a small smile on his face as he took one.

"Okay, now we have to go."

"What?"

"Do you want to clean this up? I don't."

England frowned at him. "Don't shirk your responsibilities."

"They locked us in here. Come on, you were a punk once. And a pirate."

The small smile reappeared as Prussia threw the Brit his pants and pulled him up. Once England had his pants on- and Prussia, after some deliberation- he lifted the blonde into his arms and nudged the front door open with his foot.

"This is a terrible idea," England grumbled.

"Kesesese!"


End file.
